Veronique
by ElevensSweetie16
Summary: Only one woman could ever keep up with Enjolras. This is her story. Rated M for future chapters. Please read and review!
1. Introduction

**Disclaimer: I do not own "Les Miserables." **

* * *

She pinned her bronze-colored curls up on top of her head in a messy pile, showing off her collarbones in the faded pale pink dress she wore. Her lips were stained red, and a brown scarf had been tied low around her hips. Bare feet cold on the stone floor, she took one last look at herself in the cracked mirror before leaving the room. Blue-green eyes looked back at her from a face lightly sprinkled with freckles.

Veronique stepped out onto the cobblestone road as the last ray of sunlight disappeared behind the buildings of Paris. She walked along the edge of the road, making her way to the river. As she passed through the city, she saw other people emerge from the shadows. The people of the night, the criminals and truly poor of the city, came out of their alleys and broken buildings. Nodding to the faces she recognized, Veronique continued on her way.

The street along the river was already crawling with people: prostitutes, sailors, thieves, and a few upper class men looking for amusement. Veronique ignored them all and went to lean against one of the pillars of the bridge. She didn't have to wait long before another figure appeared next to her, a dark-haired girl dressed in a faded light brown dress and leather belt.

"They make me sick," the other girl said quietly. "All these people who want attention from women, but won't even look at us when the sun is up."

Veronique looked at her friend, still watching the street from the corner of her eye. "We're goods to them, Éponine, like wine. They only want us when they're thirsty. The rest of the time, we needn't exist."

Éponine met her gaze, dark brown eyes sad. "I know. I hate it all the same."

"Hate it all you like," Veronique replied. "Just remember that this is the only way for girls like us to survive."

Éponine grabbed her arm before Veronique could move away. "What if there was another way? A group of young men from the universities are meeting and making plans to improve the lives of everyone. If they succeed, we could have other options."

"How did you hear about this group?" Veronique asked.

Éponine blushed, visible even in the dark. "Marius is a part of it. He told me. I've been to a few of their meetings with him."

"Ah, Marius," Veronique repeated. She knew all about her friend's useless love of the rich young man. He was blind to her, but he was still a good friend. "Why tell me about them?"

"There's a meeting tonight," Éponine replied. "You could come with me, just listen to them a little. Hear them out."

Veronique nodded as the other girl released her. "Alright. I'll meet you hear in two hours. Will that be enough time to get to the meeting?"

"Perfect," Éponine replied.

Veronique nodded again and began her walk up and down the river, looking for clients.

* * *

The meeting had just begun when the girls walked into the little attic used by Les Amis de l'ABC as their headquarters. A few of the young men waved to Éponine, and she waved back in response. Veronique followed her to a window seat and took a moment to examine the room.

The plain wooden floor was nearly hidden under the many tables and chairs filling the room. Young men sat in the chairs, chatting and planning for their attempt at a revolution. One man sat at a corner in the corner with a few friends, laughing and drinking from a bottle of wine. Two other young men sat at another table, studying from thick books. Veronique recognized Éponine's Marius at yet another table, talking with a blond young man in a red coat. Darting between the tables was Gavroche, Éponine's youngest brother.

"Veronique!" Gavroche yelled out when he saw her, his brown eyes sparkling under his dirty blond hair. "When did you start coming here?"

She reached out and ruffled his hair. "Your sister convinced me to come along tonight. What are you doing here?"

He pointed proudly at the red, white, and blue pin on his shirt. "I'm one of Les Amis. I know the streets better than anyone."

Veronique grinned. "I don't know, Gavroche. I think I could give you a run for your money."

"What money?" he asked. "If I had money, I wouldn't need to know the streets."

Her heart squeezed painfully in her chest. He was too honest. Gavroche was a good child, and he shouldn't have needed to know the streets. It broke her heart that he had already been exposed to the harshness of the world.

Before she could reply, one of the other young men in the room spoke. "Let's get started!"

Everyone quieted down and turned to face the young man in the red jacket. His blond curls were slightly messy and his dark blue eyes blazed with cold fire. The clothes he wore spoke of money, but he chose to spend his time in the poor part of the city. Veronique was intrigued despite herself. She had always enjoyed a mystery.

"General Lamarque has been confined to his home because of his illness," the blond man announced. "Without his voice in the government, the people are as good as forgotten. Now is the time for us to prepare for revolution."

"What do you suggest, Enjolras?" Marius asked from his seat. "What would you have us do?"

Enjolras looked around the room, meeting the eyes of every person present. "Once General Lamarque is gone, we revolt. The people of Paris need to take their lives into their own hands. We need to fight against the rules and decisions of the aristocracy. We'll start meeting nightly, begin some serious planning for the day when we can change the world."

The men nodded in agreement, but Veronique wasn't going to believe in empty promises made be a university student. "And what do you plan for your new world?" Veronique asked. "How will we be any better off under your government than we are now?"

He looked at her from across the room. She could tell he wasn't used to being questioned. Their eyes met, but she refused to look away, knowing it was part of a power play. Men were all so used to having their way. She wasn't on the job, and so she wasn't going to give in to another man.

"What's your name?" Enjolras asked.

"Veronique," she replied.

"And your surname?"

"I don't have one," Veronique said. "Not one I'll own up to, anyway."

One of his eyebrows twitched up slightly before settling back into place. "Well, Mademoiselle Veronique, the new world will have equality. There won't be such a large gap between the rich and the poor. Women and children will be cared for. Everyone will have a warm place to sleep and enough to eat."

She bit the inside corner of her lips. "And how do you plan to make that happen?"

Éponine coughed quietly. "Veronique, let it go. They've barely begun planning."

I ignored her. Enjolras continued to watch me from across the room. He surprised me by what he said next.

"I don't know," he said. "Right now, the new world is just a dream. But it is a dream I believe in, and would give up everything for. There is time before our revolution can truly begin, and I plan to use every moment of that time to plan and ensure that we will succeed."

Veronique watched the fire in his eyes burn hotter as he spoke of his dream for the new world. He really believed in what he said, and she felt herself being drawn in. Before she could think, she heard herself speak. "What can I do to help?"


	2. In the Cafe

A week passed and at the end of everyday Veronique found herself at the little café, sitting with her new found friends and trying to make plans for a better future. She sat with Éponine on the window seat, stitching together the little rosettes worn by Les Amis. Although neither of the girls were particularly good at sewing, they were better than the young men. A wooden box half full of the rosettes sat on the floor between the young women's feet.

Éponine put the last stitch into the rosette in her hands and let it drop into the box as she stood and stretched. "I think I'm done for the night," she said with a yawn. "Are you coming, Veronique?"

Veronique shook her head and picked up another bit of fabric. "I'm going to stay here for a little longer. The police were starting to get too close to my place last night. I'd rather not let them find my room."

"Are they still looking for you?" Éponine asked. "I thought they gave up."

Veronique shrugged. "They never really were looking for me, but it's best that I stay out of their way. Police don't look too kindly on prostitutes who have hit men."

"It was self-defense," her friend replied. "You were done for the night."

Veronique's lips twitched into a frown. "It's too bad he didn't respect that. Men don't seem to understand that we only keep certain hours open for business."

"Do I hear you crying out against men?" Grantaire asked, turning in his chair to face the young women. "I promise we aren't all horrible."

Éponine shook her head as she turned to leave the meeting room. "Good luck convincing her of that, Grantaire. I will see you tomorrow, Veronique."

Veronique waved good night to her friend and returned to her sewing, but Grantaire was in the mood for conversation.

"Tell me, Veronique, why are all men horrible?" he asked, sipping from his glass of wine.

She kept her eyes on the rosette as she spoke. "Men think that they can get anything with money. Food, shelter, love, women. You name it, it can be bought. Even if a woman is walking away from a man, he still thinks that if he shoves some coins into her hand he can take her and have his way. Then, when she responds by slapping him across the face to make sure he knows she isn't interested in his idea of romance, he goes and gets the police. She gets away, but he still has the police looking for her, so she can't stay in the same place every night." Veronique placed the last stitch in her rosette. "And so she is forced to stay away from the one place that she considers a home, just because she acted in self-defense."

Grantaire placed his glass on the table and leaned towards her. "Not all men are like that," he said quietly. "None of Les Amis would dare to insult a woman, any woman, like that. And if you need a place to stay for the night," Grantaire added as he stood and shrugged into his jacket. "Just stay here. No one would mind."

Veronique set the rosette in the box and picked up another. "Are you sure?" she asked. "I wouldn't want to be any trouble."

He shook his head. "Sometimes some of us spend all night here. No one will mind if you stay."

She looked up and met his kind brown eyes. "Thank you, Grantaire."

He nodded and put a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Not all men are horrible, Veronique," Grantaire said. "Take care of yourself, alright?"

She nodded as he walked down the stairs. Listening to the quiet conversations around her, she continued to stitch the rosettes, layering the scraps of red, white, and blue fabric. Focused on her work, she didn't hear the sounds of the other people leaving, or of footsteps on the creaking staircase.

"Oh, sorry," she heard someone say, startling her from her focus. "I didn't realize anyone would still be here."

Veronique looked up from the rosette in her hand and saw Enjolras standing in front of her. His golden curls were slightly damp from the rain that had begun to fall outside, and he wore his red jacket again over a simple pair of trousers and well-worn boots. In his hand was a sheaf of paper.

She placed the completed rosette in the box and picked up more fabric. "I just wanted to get some more of these rosettes ready. Everyone else left a little while ago."

Enjolras nodded and sat down at a table. "I'm not surprised. Usually everyone is gone by two in the morning."

"So why are you back again?" she asked.

He started to flip through the papers in front of him. "I like to come here at night when it's quiet. Most nights I can't sleep, so I get some work done for the revolution instead." Enjolras looked over at her. "Why are you still here? Surely the rosettes can wait."

She pursed her lips. "I prefer to get things done as soon as possible. Besides, I don't have anywhere else to go."

With her eyes on the fabric in her hands, she managed to miss the pity in his eyes as he looked at her. By the time she glanced up again, he was focused once more on the papers on the table. They worked in silence for a while, the only sounds the noises of papers being turned and the quiet _snick_ of her needle going through fabrics. Veronique started to yawn around three in the morning.

"Why don't you lie down on the couch?" Enjolras asked. "You can sleep, I won't mind."

She put down her last rosette and rubbed the back of her hand across her eyes. "What makes you think I don't have an actual bed to go home to?"

He looked at her, blue eyes devoid of emotion. "You said you didn't have anywhere else to go."

She bit her lip, trapped by her own words. "If I sleep on the couch, do you promise not to touch me?"

He frowned. "I wouldn't touch any woman while she sleeps. What kind of man would do that?"

"The kind of man that I meet all too often in my line of work, monsieur," she said as she made her way across the room to the lone couch by the fireplace. Veronique lay down on the worn couch, supporting her head with her arm and tucking her skirts between her knees. The warmth from the fire was comfortable, and she let herself relax.

Enjolras watched as she fell asleep. His heart ached with the thought of the things that must have happened to her to make it necessary for her to get him to promise not to touch her before falling asleep in his presence. It was for people like Veronique that he wanted to change the world. They had the most to gain.

He looked over at her, lying on the couch. Her bronze hair had been let down from its pins and fell in curls around her face. Long black eyelashes were a contrast against the pale of her skin and the shading of her freckles. Enjolras caught himself staring at one particular freckle just below her cheekbone and looked away.

She sighed in her sleep and rolled over so that her back faced the fire. He could see her shoulder blades underneath her dress and the curve of her spine. Veronique was so thin. Enjolras thought for a moment before getting up and going down to the main part of the café.

When Veronique awoke, a plate full of food sat on the table closest to her. A handwritten note lay next to the plate.

_Veronique,_

_You are welcome to stay here at the café as long as you like. Consider this your home. _

_The plate is for you. Have a nice day._

_Enjolras. _

She set the note back down and sat at the table. For the first time in she didn't know how long, she had a real meal and ate until her shrunken stomach was full.


	3. Learning

**Disclaimer: I do not own "Les Miserables."**

Author's note: Sorry the last two chapters haven't had very much Enjolras. I'm trying to get the pesky character development stuff out of the way. I promise more of our favorite barricade boy is coming up!

The next night found Veronique and Enjolras sitting in silence again in the café. She was folding pamphlets and he worked on a speech for the next meeting. Hours passed in the quiet as they worked.

Enjolras threw his quill down on the table, stretching his back out after being hunched over his papers for so long. He looked over at Veronique, her long bronze-colored hair starting to fall out of its pins. She ignored the feeling of his eyes on her and continued to fold the papers on the window bench beside her.

"Do you have a family, Veronique?" Enjolras asked suddenly.

"Not anymore," she replied. "I haven't had a family for seven years."

He leaned back in his chair. "What happened to them?"

She looked up from the papers in her lap. "They kicked me out. Papa lost his job, and they couldn't afford to keep me anymore. I was their only child, and they threw me out onto the street," she set the pamphlet down in the box on the floor. "I was eleven."

Enjolras was silent, unsure what to say in response to her story. "I'm sorry."

She shrugged, picking up the next paper. "I am too, some days. But you can't always live in the past. I felt so hurt for a while, wondering if there was anything I could have done to keep them from kicking me out, but then I stopped being sad and started being angry." Veronique looked up and met Enjolras's gaze, her eyes shining like fire. "There are always options. My parents chose the easy one, not the one that would be best for the family as a whole."

"What did you do? How did you survive?" Enjolras asked, unable to imagine life on the streets at such a young age.

"I did what all the street children do," she replied. "I picked pockets and begged. Then I turned fourteen and the men at the docks started watching me. By the time I was fifteen I knew what I had to do to keep living."

"You were fifteen," he murmured. "Fifteen, and you had to sell yourself."

"I sold my body," she said. "Not myself. There is a difference. None of those bastards could touch my heart or mind or soul. All they got was my body."

He continued to watch her as she folded pamphlets. "What were your other options? You said there always are options."

Her lips tightened. "My other options were to continue to beg and pickpocket or to let myself die, and hope death from cold and starvation was quick. Call me a coward, but I would rather not die like that. If I'm going to die, I want to die for something. I want a reason; I want to die for a cause or a person."

"You were fifteen," he repeated. "Couldn't anyone else have helped you?"

"Who was there to help me?" she asked bitterly. "My parents left town a year after they kicked me out of their house. I don't have any other family, and who would adopt a dirty child from the streets? I did what I had to, Enjolras. Don't you dare judge me when you never have had to be in my shoes."

"I'm not judging you," Enjolras replied. "I'm admiring you. You have gone through so much more than I ever have. You are so strong to have dealt with all of that."

"I didn't have a choice," Veronique said. "It is either be strong or be destroyed by what I have to do."

"Is it hard?" he couldn't keep from asking. "Having to- having to let them touch you?"

She looked up from her pamphlets, meeting his eyes. There was no fire this time, only emptiness. "It is pain every time I remember their hands on me. I wake in the middle of the night thinking that I can feel someone breathing on my neck, and I cringe when I remember that I let them do those things to me. No amount of confession can cleanse me of my sins, and no one can save me from my life. Every time I step outside of this café I'm reminded of who I am when I see the face of a man and wonder if I've seen him at the docks, if I've heard him crying out while fucking some poor girl who just needs enough money to eat."

"I'm sorry," Enjolras said again. "I am so sorry you have to live like that."

She looked back at her hands curled in her lap. "It won't be for much longer. Once this revolution is over, things will be different." Veronique's voice was delicate as she whispered the words. "Right?"

He stood and walked to kneel on the floor at her feet, slipping one of his hands into hers. "I promise you," Enjolras whispered. "Things will be different. I will make sure that you are cared for and safe."

"Don't make promises you can't keep," she warned.

He waited until she met his eyes again to reply. "I will keep this promise," Enjolras said. "I will keep you safe."

A feeling Veronique didn't recognize began to spread through her body. She felt warm after his promise, afraid and yet happy. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach, making her realize how close together they were. Veronique watched his eyes as they moved from her eyes to her lips.

Suddenly he stood, ending the moment. "I need some air," Enjolras announced to the empty room. "The air should help me finish my speech."

She nodded, looking back at her papers. He left the attic, wandering around outside for a little while. When he returned to the café, she was curled up on the couch. Her chest rose and fell in the steady rhythm of sleep. One of her arms curled around her waist and the other lie beside her head, palm up.

Enjolras lay his palm on hers for a moment, giving her hand a soft squeeze before returning to his table. He ignored the regrets floating through his mind and focused on his speech.


	4. Promises

His hands pressed hard against her sides, leaving bruises that she would cover with her clothes. She kept the side of her face pressed against the thin mattress beneath them. Veronique hated having to see the faces of the men who used her body. The man shuddered above her and she pretended to orgasm with him, knowing that was what he expected.

He got off her and pulled his clothes back on, throwing coins onto the mattress. "I'll see you again," he said as he left.

Veronique put the coins into the small leather pouch she wore under her dress and quickly made herself presentable once again. She had promised to meet Éponine at the café at midnight, and she had ten minutes to get there. Tying her scarf around her hips, she left the little shack where she brought her clients.

Winding her way through the streets, Veronique saw the people of the night everywhere. Women waited in the shadows, their eyes empty as they beckoned to men. Children ran across the cobblestones, chasing after rats and hoping to find something to fill their empty bellies. Pickpockets and thieves watched for unsuspecting passers-by. Veronique knew all of these people, saw herself reflected in each and every one of them. Early May rain began to fall as she reached the café and climbed the stairs to the attic.

Éponine was already there, sitting at a table with Marius, Gavroche, and Grantaire. Joly and Combeferre were at another table arguing about the likelihood of illness caused by the rain. Enjolras sat in a corner by himself with a stack of papers. Jehan and Lesgles sat at the final table, playing a game of cards. Veronique walked across the room to join Éponine and her friends.

"Hello Mademoiselle Veronique," Grantaire grinned, already deep in his drink. "We were wondering when you'd show up."

"I was delayed," she replied, sitting down beside Éponine. "What have I missed?"

"Nothing yet," Marius answered. "Enjolras said he finally came up with some big plan, but he hasn't told us anything else."

Éponine reached out and touched Veronique's arm while the men returned to their previous conversation. She knew the look of a girl who was tired beyond her hours. "Are you alright? You're not usually late," she asked quietly.

Veronique nodded. "I'm fine. It was just a rough day."

Her friend winced. Éponine understood what she meant. "Did he at least pay well?"

Veronique's lips pursed. "Not well enough to make up for what I had to do."

Éponine squeezed Veronique's cold hand. "One day more. Just get through another day, and it'll be one less day that we have to live this way."

Before Veronique could reply, Enjolras stood. "I have a plan for what we must do to free our country from tyranny."

Everyone stopped their conversations and turned to face their leader. The only sound in the room was Grantaire's glass touching the table. Enjolras walked to stand in front of the fireplace, the shadows playing across his lovely face.

"Unless we have a defendable place, the armies of the government will destroy us in instants. We need to be able to protect ourselves and our people," Enjolras looked around the room at the faces turned towards him. "We need a barricade. We can make it using anything that comes to hand: chairs, beds, tables, wagons. The government will not be able to break us if they cannot scale our walls."

The men in the café muttered among themselves, getting used to the idea. Enjolras held up a hand for quiet. "There is still a lot of planning to be done, but this can be the focus of our plans. All who agree say 'Ay'."

"Ay." Grantaire was the first to agree.

Joly and Jehan nodded. "Ay."

"Ay," Marius assented, quickly followed by Éponine.

The other men agreed until only Veronique was left to agree or disagree. Enjolras met her eyes, serious as he waited for her decision. She thought again of her parents kicking her out onto the streets and the horrible man who had pressed bruises into her skin only that evening.

"Ay." Veronique agreed.

Enjolras dipped his head in a brisk nod. "Alright. Our plans can truly begin now. Meeting dismissed. I'll see you all tomorrow."

He returned to his seat at the table in the corner and refocused on his papers. Joly and Combeferre gathered up their papers and left the café. Gavroche scampered out onto the streets, off to meet his young friends. Marius and Éponine left to walk through the town, and soon only Veronique and Enjolras remained. She settled down on the bench by the window, looking out at the rain.

Veronique shifted on the bench, wincing slightly when her elbow accidently hit the bruise on her side. Enjolras looked up at the intake of her breath.

"Are you alright?" he asked, concern in his voice.

She nodded, false sincerity in her eyes. "I just hit my side. It's no bother."

He could see right through her lie. Enjolras stood and walked to sit beside her. "Where did you hurt yourself?"

Veronique wouldn't meet his eyes. "It's just on the lower part of my ribs. It's nothing."

Gently, timidly, he reached out and put his hand on the area of her ribs she had indicated. Enjolras applied a tiny bit of pressure, stopping when she winced again. Pulling away from him, Veronique looked at him stubbornly. "It's nothing."

"What happened?" Enjolras asked, demanding answers. "How did you get hurt?"

Veronique stood and walked towards the fire. "Call it an occupational hazard."

"A man did this to you?" Enjolras asked.

Veronique frowned, looking into the flames dancing in the hearth. "I don't think I'd call him a man. He was more like a pig. I've had worse bruises, Enjolras. Don't worry about me."

She heard him walk across the room to her, winding between the tables. Despite listening to his footsteps, Veronique jumped when he appeared at her side. He gently touched her shoulder. "Can I see the bruises?"

"What?" Veronique turned to face him. "Why would you ask that?"

His dark blue eyes were hard. "I want to be sure you don't need medical attention. If you need care, Joly can fix you up."

She bit the inside of her cheek. "I am fine," she repeated. "It's just a bruise."

"All the same, I would feel better if I knew for sure that you were alright," Enjolras insisted. "Please? Let me make sure you are truly alright."

Veronique met him in a staring match. His blue eyes were unyielding, and her green eyes looked away first. She reached for the scarf at her hips and untied the knot. As she began to lift the hem of her dress, Enjolras went pale.

"What are you doing?" he asked. "I just wanted to see the bruises."

"The bruises are on my ribs," she answered. "The only way to see them is for me to remove my dress." Veronique paused. "Do you want to see the bruises or not?"

Enjolras swallowed. "You're right. I need to make sure you are well."

She removed her dress in one motion, standing before the fire in only her under-wrappings. Her chest was covered by a linen strap, and a short skirt slip hung from her hips. Purple bruises were beginning to bloom along the lower edges of her ribs. It was easy to see her bones through her skin.

With a surprisingly gentle touch, Enjolras ran his fingertips along the edges of the bruises. He knelt on the floor beside her, examining the colors on her skin more closely. Veronique watched him, doing her best to ignore the warmth on her skin following the trailing of his hand. The firelight made his gold hair look red.

He poked the center of the forming bruise and she winced, jerking away from him involuntarily. Enjolras put a hand on her hip, looking up at her with apology in his eyes. "I'm sorry. How badly do they hurt?"

"As long as no one is touching them, I don't even remember that they are there," Veronique replied.

Enjolras nodded, still looking up at her from his knees. "I don't think Joly needs to see these. You'll just need to try to be gentle with yourself."

"Gentleness isn't really a part of my job," Veronique said. "No man thinks a prostitute deserves gentleness."

His blue eyes looked black in the light from the flames beside them. "One man thinks you deserve gentleness," Enjolras replied quietly. "One man thinks you deserve everything the world can offer."

"Why?" Veronique whispered. "Why would I deserve any of that?"

He gently brushed his hand over the bruises on her ribs. "You deserve everything good in the world, Veronique, because the world has treated you so horribly. You deserve it because despite everything you have been through, you still are filled with good. You deserve it because you haven't let the world break you. You deserve the world because you are smart, and strong, and so beautiful." Enjolras looked up into her eyes. "I promised that I would take care of you, and now I promise that I will do everything in my power to give you everything you deserve."

For the first time in years Veronique felt tears forming in her eyes. "Don't make promises you can't keep."

"I will keep this promise," he swore. "I will love you, if you let me."

She let out a quiet gasp, lost for words. While she was silent, staring at him, Enjolras slowly and gently pressed his lips to the bruises on her skin. Warmth spread from where his lips touched her, filling her with butterflies.

Once he had kissed her wounds, Enjolras stood so that they were face to face. Cupping her face in his hands, he looked into her eyes. "Will you let me?"

Veronique covered one of his hands in hers. "I don't know how."

"Neither do I," Enjolras admitted. "We can learn together."

She nodded, and he pressed his lips to hers.


	5. Love and Lust

Enjolras's lips were as surprisingly gentle as his hands, barely brushing against her mouth. Veronique wasn't used to gentleness, and didn't know how to respond to his touch. They stood together in front of the fire, Veronique in just her underthings with her face in Enjolras's hands. Timidly, she reached out and rested a hand over his heart.

He kissed her a second time, lingering near her red lips. She tilted her face up to him, encouraging him to kiss her further. Enjolras understood her invitation and pulled her closer, covering her mouth with his. Veronique wrapped an arm around his neck, holding him close. Their brief kisses had already stolen her breath.

She moved as close to him as she could, and he slid an arm around her tiny waist. Veronique winced slightly when he accidently brushed against her bruises, but refused to let him pull away. He kissed her more gently again, trying to make up for the small amount of pain he had caused.

Veronique wasn't afraid of pain, and she didn't care if she hurt herself by getting as physically close to him as possible. Fire spread through her veins from where his lips and hands touched her. He moved his hand up her back along her spine, making her shiver. She pulled him closer, lightly biting his lower lip.

Enjolras gasped and pulled away, keeping Veronique in his arms. "What- what was that?"

"What do you mean?" she replied. "What was what?"

"You bit me!" he answered.

"It's a type of kiss," Veronique said. "Most men enjoy it."

Enjolras ran a hand through his hair, messing up his curls. "It surprised me. It isn't that the bite wasn't enjoyable, I just wasn't expecting it."

Veronique slipped out of his arms, moving over to where she had piled her clothes. "I'm sorry. This is just- I'm not sure what- I…"

Enjolras grabbed her elbow after she had pulled her dress back on. "Veronique, I'm much better with words than with physical situations. I've been involved with only a few girls, and things always ended. The revolution has always been my first priority. The revolution has always been my only love."

"The revolution should be your first priority," she replied. "Nothing is more important than equality for all. I believe in the cause, and I believe in you, Enjolras. But I don't know if I can handle this, this thing between us. I've never had to lead in this kind of situation. I just lie back and let the man do what he likes."

Small lines formed at the corners of his eyes as he tried not to wince for her experiences. "I'm not a customer, Veronique. I want a relationship with you. That means we both lead, and we both follow."

She bit her lip, taking his hand from her arm and holding it in her hand. "Then lead me to your rooms," Veronique said quietly. "We will have more privacy there."

Enjolras nodded and led her out of the café. They walked in silence through the streets to a small building a few blocks over. He led her up three flights of stairs to a locked door. Unlocking the door, he showed her into his small home.

The apartment was made up of a washroom, bedroom, and main room. A small kitchen stood in the corner of the main room. All the furniture was well made, but simple. The table in the center of the room was covered in papers and ink. Veronique moved to stand by the table while Enjolras lit a fire in his small hearth and lit a few candles from the fireplace.

"It's not much," Enjolras said. "I'm sorry if you expected more."

She shook her head. "It's more than I've ever had. It looks wonderful." Veronique slipped her hands into his. "Thank you for bringing me here."

He nodded, his blue eyes dark in the little bits of light coming from around the room. She moved closer to him, resting her head on his shoulder. Enjolras wrapped his arms around her, holding her like she was something precious.

Enjolras tipped her chin up so he could place a kiss on her lips. She kissed him back, wrapping both her arms around his waist. He moved one of his hands to her neck, and gently pulled her closer.

Veronique felt the tip of his tongue touch her lips. Granting him entry, their tongues began to dance, filling them both with fire and want. She ran her hands up and down his chest and back, feeling the beating of his heart from underneath his clothes. He deepened the kiss further, tilting her head back. Veronique felt herself melt into him until there wasn't even a breath of space between them.

He moved from her mouth to the nape of her neck, raining kisses along her neck and collarbone. One of her hands twined through his golden curls, the other resting on the curve of his back. She felt him nip at her throat and let out a sigh.

"Mmm," he murmured against her skin. "Now I understand the biting."

She pulled his face back to hers, kissing him firmly and moving her hands down the front of his chest, searching for the buttons of his red jacket. Veronique removed the jacket, pushing it off his arms while he continued to kiss her face. Once free of the jacket, his hands moved to her hips, removing her scarf and pulling her up against him. She moved her hands from his hips up to his shoulders, removing his white shirt as she went. Throwing it on the ground with his jacket, she pressed herself against his bare chest.

His muscles were beautifully defined, and his skin was pale and warm. She felt his heartbeat more strongly now, beating against her chest with only her dress between them. Her hands ran over his unblemished skin, reveling in the smoothness. Enjolras shivered slightly at the touch of her cold hands.

He stepped back from her for a moment, and she pulled her dress off over her head. Watching his eyes, she shimmied out of her slip and removed the linen binding around her chest. Enjolras swallowed, watching the way the light danced across her skin. His hand trembling slightly, he reached out and ran his hand along the curve of her waist.

Veronique ignored his shyness and moved up against him once more, pressing their bodies together. Their heartbeats echoed each other as she slid her lips along his collarbone. He ran his hands over the sides of her body and up and down the length of her spine. Without warning her scooped her up and carried her into the next room, putting her down on his bed.

He lay down next to her, and she turned to face him. Veronique wrapped one of her long legs over him, holding him against her. She could feel the bulge in his pants from his growing erection. Enjolras kissed her, plundering her mouth with his tongue as he ran a hand over one of her breasts. She rolled them over so he was on his back and she was on top, still kissing. He moved to kiss her breast and she slowly moved her hips over him, making him release her and gasp.

She grinned lazily, moving her hips again over his trapped erection. Enjolras quickly flipped them over, wiggling his pants off and kicking them onto the floor. He moved on top of her, trailing kisses from her lips to the edge of her hip. Enjolras paused, an eyebrow quirked as he looked up at her. Veronique's bronze-colored hair was spread out around her head like rays from the sun, and her eyes were dark with passion. A grin spread across Enjolras's face, and he licked two of his fingers before plunging them into her center.

Veronique let out a harsh breath, feeling him uncurl his fingers inside her. "Where'd you learn that?"

He planted a kiss on her hip, moving his fingers in and out of her as she clenched her fists in the blanket beneath them. "I overheard two women talking on the street. I thought I'd give it a try. Do you like it?"

"Mmm," she moaned quietly. "Can you add more?"

He grinned, slipping in a third finger. She squirmed slightly, but he held her still. The rhythm he set was steady, slightly on the faster side. His fingers moved in and out, taking away what little breath she had. A trembling feeling began low in her stomach and spread through her body, causing her hips to begin to buck. Enjolras felt her tighten around his fingers and squeezed the little nub of flesh at her center, sending her over the edge.

Veronique let out a quiet scream, arching her back before collapsing onto the bed. Enjolras removed his hand from her and crawled up to press a kiss on her lips. She responded energetically, holding him against her. His erection was hard and ready, and she wanted him inside of her.

"Enjolras," she murmured against his lips. "Are you ready?"

He responded by kissing her harder and moving so his hips rested lightly on hers. Enjolras kept himself supported on his elbows in order to keep from putting any of his weight on Veronique. She held onto his face, kissing him as he positioned himself at her entrance.

"Ready?" he whispered. She nodded, and he slowly began to push himself into her.

Her back arched again and she let out a long sigh as he sheathed himself, pausing once he was fully inside her. As beads of sweat began to form on his skin from the strain of staying still, she opened her eyes again and nodded at him.

Enjolras began to move, thrusting himself in and out of Veronique. She ran her hands down his back, leaving little lines and half-moon marks from where she dug in her nails. He moved all of his weight onto one elbow, running his hand along her body and admiring her curves.

He pulled them up into a sitting position, plunging deeper into her. She gasped at the change, but continued to run her hands over his skin, leaving little marks to show she had been there. Veronique ran her lips along his throat, enjoying the shiver she caused.

Enjolras's thrusts became faster, and the fire began to pool in her lower stomach again. He reached between them and pressed his thumb down on her clitoris again, and she chattered around him. Enjolras followed her over the ledge, both shuddering and clinging to each other. She bit down on his shoulder as he fell onto his back, pulling her with him. Their legs were tangled together, and her head rested on his chest.

He smoothed her hair away from her face, eyes unfocused as he gazed at the ceiling. She kissed his chest, directly over his heart. Just as she was about to fall asleep, lulled by his breathing, Enjolras spoke.

"You said you believed in me," he said.

Veronique opened her eyes, eyelashes fluttering against his skin. "I do believe in you. No one else cares about things and people the way you do, Enjolras."

"You do," he replied. "You care."

"But I can't change anything. I'm a prostitute. You are a well-educated young rich man. You can change the world, if you set your mind to it." Veronique murmured.

"You believe in me," Enjolras repeated.

"I do."

"Do you know what I believed in before I met you?" Enjolras felt her shake her head. "I believed in the revolution, and that was it. I didn't even really believe in the people I was fighting for. I wasn't sure that they would be any better than the people who currently rule the country."

"And now?" Veronique asked, shifting so she could see his face.

"Now I believe in the revolution, and the people. But mostly I believe in you." Enjolras kissed her fiercely. "You reminded me of the freedom for which we are fighting. You reminded me of everything for which we stand."

She kissed him as fiercely as he had kissed her. "We will fight together," she promised. "We will build the barricade and fight for a world where we can be together."

* * *

Author's note:

Thanks to everyone who has been reviewing, following, and favoriteing this story! I really hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoy writing it!

I'm trying to make it clear that Veronique is as dedicated to the revolution as Enjolras, but I had some trouble finding a good reason for a young woman to get into the cause, so I thought I'd make her reason for fighting to be able to be with the man she loves, since normally a prostitute and young man from a wealthy family wouldn't end up in a real relationship. I hope her reason for fighting seems sensible to you.

What do you all think? Am I portraying these characters correctly?


	6. Talk of Revolution

The days began to follow a pattern. Every morning Veronique would wake up in Enjolras's bed, cradled in his arms. She would make a small breakfast for them both and they would leave the apartment together. He would go to his classes at the university and she would wander through town, stopping to speak to some of the people she saw. Occasionally she would manage to recruit one of them to the cause and give them a red, white, and blue rosette.

Once his classes were done for the day, Enjolras would find her where ever she was on the streets. They would return to his apartment for a little while before going over to the café and preparing for the daily meeting. After the meetings they would sometimes stay in the café all night, talking until the sun rose. Other nights they would return to his apartment and make love for hours on end.

Veronique no longer went to the docks at night. Enjolras had enough money to provide for them both, and she didn't want to ever feel another man's hands on her skin. She had given Enjolras her body, heart, and soul. No amount of money could convince her to give any of the three to another man.

They lay in bed together one early June afternoon. Veronique lay on her stomach, watching the rays of sunlight move across the wooden floors while Enjolras drew designs on her bare back with his fingertips. Both of their bodies still shone with sweat and Veronique's heart rate was slowly returning to normal. She felt him press his lips to her shoulder.

"What are you thinking?" he whispered.

She turned her head so she could see him. His golden curls were messed from sex, and his eyes were clear blue and warm for once. When they were in bed he wasn't the leader of the revolution. He was just hers.

"How long do you think we have until the barricade goes up?" Veronique asked. "How much longer until things change?"

Enjolras put his head down on the mattress so their foreheads touched. "I'm not sure. General Lamarque's health continues to fail daily. Once he is gone, we will have no one to champion the people."

"We'll have you," she murmured, brushing her lips over his.

"No one in the government," he corrected himself. "Once General Lamarque is gone, the barricades will rise."

"How much longer do you think he will last?" she asked.

He shook his head, cheek creasing against the mattress. "I'd say only a few more days. He is not much longer for this world."

Veronique reached out and ran her hand down from his cheek to his chest. "That doesn't give us much time."

"For what?"

Rather than reply, she pressed herself up against him and kissed him firmly. He wrapped his arms around her and rolled them over, the blankets twisting around their lower bodies. They melted into each other, knowing every nook and cranny of each other's bodies.

Suddenly a knock came on the door. "Enjolras, open the door! I know you're in there."

"Ignore it," Veronique whispered against his lips. "Maybe he'll go away."

The person knocked again on the door, harder. "If you don't open the door, I'll come in and interrupt whatever is going on!"

Enjolras groaned and pulled away. "Only Grantaire has a key to my flat. I knew a day would come when I would regret giving him that key."

Veronique wrapped herself in the blanket while Enjolras pulled on a pair of trousers. He yanked open the door, scowling at his friend. "What is so important that it couldn't wait until the meeting?"

Before answering, Grantaire leaned into the room and winked at Veronique. "Sorry to interrupt, mademoiselle."

She frowned at him, but kept a smile in her eyes. "You have horrible timing, Grantaire."

"What is so important?" Enjolras repeated, leading his friend out into the main room of the apartment and closing the bedroom door. Veronique got dressed in private, pulling on a dark blue dress Enjolras had bought for her. A red sash marked her waist, her arms were bare, and the skirt fell to her feet. Before leaving the room, she pulled her bronze hair away from her face with a few pins.

Enjolras and Grantaire sat at the kitchen table, shuffling through the papers covering the surface of the table. Enjolras was speaking when Veronique emerged from the other room.

"The people of Paris will need to rise in order for the barricade to be successful," he said. "They are what the entire plan relies on. We need to ensure that the people will join us at the barricade."

"But how can we ensure that?" Grantaire asked. "Even you can't read the minds of the people and control them to make sure they join us."

"You are right, I can't control them. I wouldn't want to be able to control them," Enjolras replied. "Free will is a necessary part of this revolution. We need the people to choose to fight for the freedom from their oppressors. Only then will the revolution really succeed."

"A lot of people are afraid," Veronique said. "The men are skeptical of what a group of schoolboys can accomplish and the women aren't willing to lose their fathers, husbands, brothers, lovers, and sons. If you want the people of Paris to join you, you will need to give them some kind of guarantee that things will work out so that you will win."

Enjolras ran his hand through his curls, a nervous habit Veronique would sometimes tease him over. "The problem is that I cannot guarantee our success," he said quietly, admitting his inability to control everything. "I can only hope for the best and try to make sure that my people are prepared for the barricades."

"Then lie to them," Veronique replied. "Make them an empty promise. Enjolras, so many people would follow you to the end of the Earth. Use your ability to convince people to listen to you and believe in you to get the people of Paris to join you. You don't have to be able to live up to the promise right away. You just need to have a chance of following through on the things you promised."

He looked at her, his blue eyes cold. Enjolras the revolutionary leader had returned. "You want me to make a promise I cannot keep."

Her green eyes were full of fire, refusing to give into his ice. "I want you to live. If that means breaking a few promises and telling a few lies, so be it."

Grantaire cleared his throat, reminding them he was in the room. "You may not agree with the necessity of lying to the people, Enjolras, but I think Veronique is right. They won't join us if they don't believe we will win. We need to promise them we will succeed. Even if we don't know if that is true."

Enjolras looked back and forth from his lover to his best friend. "I will not lie to the people," he said. "I will not make a promise I cannot keep."

Veronique knelt on the floor beside his chair, grabbing his hands and forcing his to turn to face her. "You promised me you would take care of me and that you would love me. How can you keep that promise if you are dead?"

"Veronique, what is more important?" Enjolras demanded. "Is it more important to free the people of France from the rule of tyranny or for you and me to continue our little lives together? Is it more important for us to be in love or for me to die in order to make it so that other people like us will be able to love each other openly and without trial?"

"What's more important?" she threw back at him. "Hundreds of 'what ifs' or one reality?"

"Why must they be exclusive?" he asked. "Why can't the one reality lead to the hundreds of what ifs? Veronique, I will do everything in my power not to die. Will that calm your fears?"

She narrowed her eyes. "Do you promise?"

He lifted her hand and kissed it. "I promise not to die at the barricade."

Veronique nodded and stood, dusting off her skirts. "I will meet you both at the café. Clearly, I have some news to spread on the streets about the revolution."

"What will you tell them?" Grantaire asked.

She rested her hand on Enjolras's shoulder. "I will say that there is a brighter tomorrow waiting for all who are brave enough to reach for it. I will say that the people of Paris and France have been oppressed for too long. I will say that our people cannot continue to live this way. I will say," Veronique said, fire in her eyes once more. "That our little lives don't matter in comparison to the greater good."

Veronique left the apartment and the two men sitting at the table. Grantaire looked over at Enjolras. "I don't understand what just happened."

Enjolras leaned back in his chair, stretching. "Neither do I. All I know is that this revolution has to succeed, or else I will have one very angry woman coming after me."

* * *

Author's note:

What did you guys think? I had a lot of fun writing this chapter with the fight between Enjolras and Veronique. It seemed like she would be so worried about him dying in the revolution, because he is the only thing she wants for his future. He had to convince her that risks needed to be taken in order to get a chance at that future.

Please leave a review! I always get more motivated to post another chapter when I see that more people are enjoying my writing.


	7. The Last Time

**Disclaimer: I do not own Les Miserables. Some of the lines in this chapter are taken from the song "Red and Black." **

* * *

June came with stifling heat and humidity. The people in the streets of Paris became restless and the young revolutionaries in the café began to lose focus. Enjolras had to call them back to attention multiple times at meetings, reminding them of everything they had to gain. Veronique wandered the streets, trying to stir the people into action and support of the revolution.

Their first real success came on the second day of June. Enjolras and Marius had set up a small stage in front of General Lamarque's home and shouted out to the people of Paris, catching their attention and stirring their anger against the privileged classes. The other young men went through the crowd, handing out pamphlets and continuing to stir up the tension in the streets. Veronique stood close to the front of the crowd, watching her lover touch the minds of the people.

Policemen came to try to break up the crowd, but Les Amis wouldn't let them. Joly and Comberferre did their best to block the police's way into the crowd, and Enjolras and Marius jumped down from their place in front of the steps of the house. Marius ran to join the human barricade, and Enjolras moved through the crowd to Veronique's side. He held her hand and stood beside her, surveying the work they had done.

"Not bad for just a couple of days," Veronique commented, a smile flickering in the corners of her red lips.

He nodded, the sunlight glinting off his hair. "Not bad at all. I think the people are finally going to rise and join us."

She looked at his eyes, at the fire burning where ice usually thrived. Veronique stretched up to press a kiss on his cheek. "I always believed in you. They will follow you to the end of the earth. And I'll do the same."

Enjolras looked at her, the fire in his blue eyes burning even hotter. "You won't be following. You'll be right there at my side."

"You had better believe it," Veronique agreed.

Enjolras watched as the police finally got past the people trying to keep the crowd together. He held tighter to Veronique's hand and led her down a side street that was a shortcut to the café. A street away from the café she stopped him and pushed him up against the brick wall of a building. His hands immediately went into the long hair falling down her back and he pulled her to him. Their lips met in an intensely passionate kiss, her hands sliding from his shoulders to his chest. She pressed herself fully against him, not caring if anyone saw them in the little alleyway. Enjolras moved from her lips to her neck, trailing kisses along the way. She closed her eyes and ran one of her hands through his hair, holding him close.

When they started to hear the sounds of other people hurrying their way, they broke apart. Enjolras took her hand once more and they resumed their walk to the café Musain. Once they entered the little attic where Les Amis always met, they walked over to the table in the corner where Enjolras kept his papers. Veronique sat down with him at the table and watched as the room began to fill with the other men who had decided to fight for the revolution.

Grantaire started drinking again as soon as he sat down. The other men wandered around, joking and planning for the day when General Lamarque would die and the world would begin to change. Enjolras joined Courfeyrac at the table in the center of the room, discussing the logistics involved if the barricade should turn into the location of a stalemate and the French military tried to starve Les Amis out.

The sun set while Les Amis continued their plans, people running in and out of the café constantly with news and ideas. Marius arrived shortly after the sky grew dark, looking shell-shocked.

"What's new, Marius?" Joly shouted across the room. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

Marius sat down across the table from Grantaire, the expression on his face remaining the same. "A ghost? Maybe. She was just like a ghost to me."

"Is Marius in love at last?" Grantaire slurred. "I'm in shock! Enjolras, do you hear Don Juan over here?"

Enjolras looked up from the papers covering the table, an irritated look on his face. "Is this really important? We are planning a revolution."

Marius looked over at his leader. "If you had seen her today, maybe you would understand. She was beautiful, hair like rays of sunlight and eyes like the sea."

Veronique frowned, looking around the room to see if Éponine had showed up. Her friend would not be happy to hear that Marius had fallen in love with some mystery woman. After making sure that Éponine wasn't in the café, Veronique tuned back into the conversation.

"Who cares about your lonely soul?" Enjolras was saying to Marius. "We have a greater goal. Our little lives don't matter at all."

Veronique recognized the words she had said to him after deciding to put all her efforts into getting the people of Paris to join the men at the barricade. Before she could say anything or catch Enjolras's eye, she saw little Gavroche run up the stairs into the attic. His hair was more of a mess than usual, and his little chest heaved as he tried to catch his breath.

Combeferre was closest to the top of the stairs and Veronique watched as Gavroche muttered something into the man's ear. The other men in the room were all being riled up by Enjolras to make sure they were dedicated to the cause, but Combeferre called for everyone's attention. Everyone fell silent and turned towards the stairs.

"General Lamarque is dead." Gavroche announced, his young voice loud in the quiet room.

Veronique's eyes darted to Enjolras. He stood still in the now silent room, the fire in his eyes burning so hot that it was hard to imagine that ice had ever been in his gaze. His eyes flicked over to hers for a moment before he began to pace in front of the open windows.

"This is the sign we have been waiting for," Enjolras began. "Tomorrow Paris will honor Lamarque. We will go and honor him before raising the barricades. At my signal, we will return here from the parade and build our barricade. The people will join us. Tomorrow is the beginning of a new day."

Les Amis all applauded and made as much noise as they could. Marius darted out of the attic suddenly, and a few other people left to spread the word to the other groups of Les Amis. Enjolras and Courfeyrac continued to make plans for a few hours before Courfeyrac left to check on the parade route. Finally only Enjolras and Veronique remained.

She walked across the room to him, resting her hand on his shoulder as he continued to study the papers in front of him. "It's late," Veronique whispered. "Let's go home."

Enjolras nodded and followed her out of the café. He held tight to her hand as they walked to his flat, neither of them saying a single word. Once the door was closed and locked behind them, he sat down at his table and put his face in his hands.

"Am I doing the right thing?" he asked. "Am I leading the people to failure?"

Veronique knelt on the ground beside his chair, gently pulling his hands away from his face. "You are doing the right thing, the only right thing. You will lead the people to victory and to a better tomorrow. Now is our time, Enjolras. Now is the time to create the better tomorrow that we all so desperately need."

He didn't say anything in response, but slid from his chair to kneel beside her. Enjolras leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers, saying everything he couldn't put into words. Veronique could taste his fear, his excitement, the adrenaline coursing through his veins, and the determination to change the world that was wrapped around his bones. She kissed him back, adding love to the mixture of tastes on their tongues.

Enjolras brought them both back to their feet and led her into their bedroom. They both stripped off their clothes and fell together onto the bed. Veronique kissed the curve at the base of his neck, breathing in the warm scent of his skin. He rolled her onto her back, running his hands over every inch of her body. She kissed his mouth, holding his face to hers as she curled her fingers in his hair.

His hands ran up and down the insides of her thighs, trailing sparks where they touched. He dipped his fingers into her center, causing her to gasp. Veronique bit his lower lip, pulling on him to get him to move faster. Enjolras grabbed her hips and kissed her back fiercely. He pushed himself into her center, and she arched to meet him. Beads of sweat rolled down both their spines as they combined themselves to become one heartbeat, one breath.

Veronique dragged her nails down his back, making him shiver as she created little pink lines on his skin. He moved faster within her, and her hips began to buck. This time he didn't stop to tease her. Enjolras sped up further, sending them both over the edge of their orgasms.

She closed her eyes as Enjolras pulled the blankets to cover them both. Reaching out, she pulled him to her again. He kissed her mouth as gently as a butterfly landing on an open flower, his touch soothing and warm. Bronze and gold hair combined on their pillow, and his blue eyes looked into her green ones. They listened to the beginning of the rain, though feeling no relief from the humidity. Veronique pressed herself closer to his side, memorizing the feeling of him beside her.

Enjolras fell asleep first, worry lines disappearing in sleep. Veronique reached out and ran her fingertip along his cheekbone and down his jawbone. He smiled in his sleep, the arm draped over her pulling her closer. She pressed a kiss to his shoulder and tried to fall asleep, doing her best not to think about what could happen the next day.

* * *

Author's note: Sorry it's been so long since I last updated! I just watched the movie again last night, so that inspired me again to write! There will only be two more chapters after this one, and I'm trying to get those done quickly. Thank you to everyone who has written me a review and/or favorited and followed!


	8. Goodbyes

The morning of General Lamarque's funeral dawned bright and hot. The rain from the previous night had not removed any of the humidity, but simply added to it. Veronique and Enjolras walked to the parade route together, the red flag of Les Amis tucked under his arm. They held hands as they joined the other people beginning to form a crowd as the parade began.

Enjolras had made Veronique promise not to put herself in harm's way, but she had managed to get him to agree to let her join them at the barricades. He knew better than to argue with her when she got that steely glint in her eyes.

As the coach carrying General Lamarque's casket rolled by, Enjolras nodded to Marius across the street. Enjolras jumped out onto the road and began waving the red flag in the center of the parade, the signal for the rest of Les Amis to join him and begin the revolution. Marius managed to climb to the top of Lamarque's coach and the other boys followed his lead. The parade was in disarray, and the police were unsure of how to best deal with the schoolboys who had taken over the parade.

Veronique looked up at the top of Lamarque's coach and saw Marius and Enjolras waving their flags and looking like young heroes. Enjolras saw her and grinned. She grinned and nodded back at him, thinking that just maybe they would all be able to pull this off.

Then a shot rang out and people began to scream.

"They're shooting innocents!" Joly yelled.

"To the barricades!" Enjolras shouted before jumping from the coach to the cobblestone street. He landed and ran to Veronique, grabbing her hand before they both began to run. Together they ran through the streets to the café Musain, calling for the people of Paris to join them at the barricade. Furniture began to fall from windows, and the men picked up the pieces and began to pile the broken furniture in front of the café. The barricade had at last been begun.

Once the barricade rose fifteen feet into the air, the boys stopped adding to it. Enjolras climbed to the top and stuck the red flag into the top, looking even more like the hero Veronique knew him to be. The men grouped together, organizing watches and preparing their guns. Veronique moved to sit inside the café, searching for something to do.

She was surprised when a boy sat down next to her. "Veronique, why are you here?"

Even though the "boy" had on a hat and a baggy coat, Veronique could recognize her best friend. "I could ask you the same question, Éponine."

Éponine looked at Veronique, a slight frown on her face. "Did you think I could just let Marius go? I'm here to make sure he is safe. I don't want to have to worry about whether or not he will survive this."

Veronique reached out and covered Éponine's hand with her own. "I understand. I couldn't let Enjolras come here alone either. I'd rather be in danger than sit and wait for him to come home to me."

The second girl nodded. "Do you think they'll survive? Our men?"

"I don't know," Veronique admitted, finally acknowledging her fears. "All we can do is pray that when the smoke clears they still will be here."

Éponine nodded and stood. "I'm going outside. I want to see what is happening."

Veronique nodded and watched her best friend walk away. There were too many people here that she cared about. Too many people she couldn't bear to lose.

Shots rang out from in front of the café. Veronique dashed to the window, afraid of what she might see. All she saw were her friends and their guns, aiming at something on the other side of the barricade. Marius grabbed a powder keg and ran back up the barricade, threatening to burn down the entire thing. A solider aimed their pistol at him, and a boy grabbed the gun, pulling it to fire at them instead of Marius. Veronique watched the boy fall, and saw the long brown hair tumble from beneath the worn-out cap.

She didn't even remember telling her legs to move. All she knew was that Éponine had been shot, and was bleeding. Marius had Éponine in his arms, and they were both saying something, but sounds no longer made sense to Veronique. Her best friend was injured- was dying- and there was nothing Veronique could do.

Arms grabbed ahold of Veronique, holding her close and turning her away from the sight of Éponine's death. She buried her face in Enjolras's chest, letting the tears leave shining trails down her cheeks. Her best friend was gone. Éponine. Her secret keeper, her partner in crime, her as-good-as sister. Gone. Dead.

Enjolras held Veronique until he could no longer feel her body shaking from the tears. He let her go, and saw that the tears had stopped. Instead her eyes burned, determined and angry. She kissed him once, fiercely, and released him.

"Make them pay," she said. "For Éponine. Make the bastards pay."

Enjolras nodded and returned to his post on the barricade.

The night passed slowly, everyone too on edge to get much sleep. Veronique stayed by Enjolras's side, holding his hand as he tried to sleep. Instead he spent the night watching the shadows dance across her face, memorizing the patterns formed by freckles on her skin.

In the morning he listened to a report from Gavroche and turned to face his troops, face grim. "We are the only barricade left," he announced. "Anyone who wishes to leave, please feel free to do so now."

Then men were silent, watching their leader. One by one, they picked up their guns and moved to their positions on the barricade. Not a single man left.

Enjolras closed his eyes, doing his best to compose himself. This sign of faith, dedication, and trust from his friends meant more than he ever could have expressed despite all his skill as an orator. However, now that he knew this was the end, he had one last job to do.

Veronique was sitting beside the café's doorway, looking up at the blue sky. He sank down to sit beside her, listening to the sounds of the men preparing for another battle. He took her hand and raised it to his lips.

"You need to leave," Enjolras said quietly.

She closed her eyes. "Not without you."

"Veronique, I need you to leave."

She shifted to look him in the eyes. "I need you to live."

Enjolras bit the inside of his cheek, trying to strengthen himself. "Veronique, I don't know what will happen here anymore. All I know is that I have lost too many people, and I have too much blood on my hands. I don't want you to be added to that list."

Veronique looked down at their hands and flipped his over, running her fingertip over the lines in his palm. "Do you know what my life was like before you?" she asked, her voice soft. "I was living a constant nightmare. No one cared what happened to me, no one lifted a finger to help me. I would lie awake at night wondering if I would be better off dead. And then I met you, and you showed me how to dream again. You showed me a world where life can be wonderful, can be a miracle." Veronique looked up at him again. "You showed me how to love someone with everything I am and how to be loved in return. And nothing will ever change that. No one else will ever come close to you."

Enjolras closed his eyes and pressed his lips to her bare shoulder. "Veronique, I need you to leave. I promise, I'll return to you once this is over."

She stood, brushing the dust of the ground off her skirts. "Don't make promises you can't keep."

He stood and kissed her, pouring as much of himself into the kiss as he could. "I love you."

She rested her forehead against his. "I love you." Veronique gave him a tight hug and left through the back route Les Amis had created behind the barricade.

Enjolras watched her go, knowing it would be the last time he would see her.

Blood in the streets. Blood on the sides of some of the houses. Blood on windows, on bricks, on cobblestones. Blood on the bodies of Les Amis, lined up in the streets.

Veronique had known that Enjolras wouldn't return to the flat as soon as she heard the shots begin to ring. She had laid down on the floor of the bedroom and let the tears roll down her face in a river, the tears sinking into her hair with each distant gunshot. At dawn she had risen and gone out into the streets, knowing she had to see what remained.

Jehan. Éponine. Combeferre. Gavroche. Joly. Les Amis. Grantaire. Enjolras. All laid out in the street in a line of death. Veronique sank to her knees on the bloodstained cobblestones and let the tears fall down her face again. She lifted Enjolras's head and gently lay it in her lap, cradling him. Smoothing his golden curls away from his face, Veronique pressed a kiss to his forehead. She remained with him until men came to remove the bodies.

* * *

Author's note:

This was a really hard chapter for me to write. Part of me hates myself for letting it go this way, but the largest part of me feels like this is how the story has to go. Please don't hate me too much!


	9. Epilouge

Two years had passed since the day at the barricade. Veronique had gotten a job working at the café Musain, helping in the kitchen and with the customers. At first she had barely been able to look at the café, but the memories had become less overpowering. Over time she had managed to focus on the good memories and stop thinking about the sadness associated with them.

The summer was warm, but not humid. Veronique was wiping down a table inside the café, listening to the idle chatter of the customers. She smiled when she saw a chubby little toddler with golden curls and green eyes winding his way across the room to her.

He looked like a smaller version of his father, and even though he wasn't even two year old yet, Veronique knew he would share his father's passion. When her little son focused on something, it took all of her attention and focus to get him to let go of it.

Sometimes at night she would sit up with him asleep in her arms. Humming lullabies to him, Veronique would let herself remember the times she sat up all night with Enjolras. She would remember the touch of his hand and the way his smile looked in the moonlight. Veronique would remember the promises he had made to her.

Enjolras had kept every one of his promises to her. Even his last promise, his promise to return to her after the barricade. In the child she held, he had returned to her. Their son was a piece of Enjolras that could not be erased.

After putting their son in his bed for the night, she would go to lie in her own bed. Veronique always slept with the windows open so she could see the stars. Every night she whispered a prayer to the sky, a promise that she would always keep.

"I believe in you, Enjolras. In you and everything you are."


End file.
